


The Hair Cut Fics No One Asked For

by Lady_of_Glass_and_Bone



Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Haircuts, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Glass_and_Bone/pseuds/Lady_of_Glass_and_Bone
Summary: You have a plan, solid determination, a pair of scissors and your only back up is a dog.
Relationships: Bo Sinclair/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	1. You're Next

**Author's Note:**

> I named the dog Mite forever ago and it's staying. I'm going to try and do one for each Sinclair brother. Wish me luck!

You had been waiting months for this opportunity. Casual sneaking turning into borderline spying. And it ended up being a case of right time, right place.

You'd watched your target go into the bathroom, towel and fresh-ish clothes in hand. Once the water had sputtered up through the pipes to the bathroom all you needed to do now was grab your tools of choice and wait. You knew your plan had about a 50/50 chance of actually working and that was wholly because you were feeling particularly optimistic today.

Honestly, you just hoped no one would get hurt.

Waiting downstairs, you lazily began shooting the balls around on the pool table, Mite watching you from somewhere near the foot of the stairs. You both had one ear on the sounds of running water upstairs.

Once you sank the last ball you turned and leaned back against the table, locking eyes with the black and white pup.

"You're gonna back me up on this right?" you ask her.

Mite lifted her head at your attention, watching thoughtfully. Right. You'd take what you could get.

"Good enough," you sighed.

Padding over to the kitchen where your plan would unfold, you set up. Halfway through, the shower shuts off and you felt sweat start to form on your palms. Walking over to the foot of the stairs you called out.

"Hey Vincent! Could you come help me with something when you're done? In the kitchen?"

You didn't expect much of a verbal response but you got a thump, so at least you knew he had heard you.

"Thanks!"

Back in the kitchen, the chair was pulled out, an old sheet cut to your needs folded on the table, and beside it, a pair of scissors and a comb. Looking at the set-up, you had a split second of 'oh god what am I doing' before the heavy footsteps descending the stairs and Mite's excited tail thumping cut it short.

Ha. Cut it short. Puns.

You turned, one hand on the back of the chair keeping you propped up, to see a blank mask watching you.

"Hey Vincent." Nope. Too high pitched. Crap.

Vincent scanned the scene before him. You, using your nervous voice, smiling like you had anywhere else you wanted to be and. . . scissors?

"Okay, before you run away just hear me out!" throwing your hands up, dropping the painful smile. "I don't want to chop off your hair, I just want to trim it. Snip off the dead ends, nice and even, keep it healthy, that's it."

Cut his hair. You wanted to cut his hair?

"Just a little." You held up your index and thumb together in a pinch, as if you could read his mind.

The last time someone else had cut Vincent's hair it had left him feeling exposed. A target. But you hadn't said cut, just trim. And he trusted you.

You were beginning to lose hope, like a slowly deflating tire. Soon you'd be just-

"Okay" Vincent's voice rasped from behind the wax mask, head dipping in a slight nod, shoulders twitching up just a bit. Wait. What?

"Yeah?" Another nod, enough to make his long, damp hair sway with the motion.

"Awesome! Thank you! I promise I won't take off anymore than you want. Just the ends. My mom taught me how to cut hair, to save money and all that, my dad even trusted me to do it when Mom was busy."

You chattered away, gently herding Vincent to sit in the chair, Mite following along happily. You pulled the old sheet off the table and sweeper it over his wide shoulders like a cape, pulling his hair out from underneath. Stepping over Mite to reach for the comb and scissors, he watched you step in front of him.

Your smile was easy now, aimed at him, asking if he was ready. He nodded. You gave him a brief rundown of what you were going to do. Another nod.

"Let me know if I catch your mask with the comb okay?"

You didn't want him to take it off? Of course. That wouldn't have even crossed your mind.

Moving behind him, you started the comb at the ends, undoing knots and moving further up until you could pass it through the dark strands smoothly. You triple checked with Vincent about the length and you may have cringed at the first snip, just blinking at the bit of dead ends once they were tucked between your fingers.

Holding it out over Vincent's shoulder for him to see, just to be sure, you decided he was definitely smiling at your nervousness from beneath the mask. You could feel it.

After that it was easy, falling into the old rhythm your mom had taught you. Comb, check the length, snip, move on to the next.

Vincent relaxed into the gentle scrap of the comb on his scalp and the feel of soft hands moving his hair. It was nice. Calming. Safe. And then you were standing in front of him, holding out his hair to the sides, eyes darting from one side to the other.

"Nice and even." You proclaimed, letting the hair go to fall back into place and reaching out to grab the cape, pulling it off as the front door opened.

Mite scrambled up and over tentatively to greet Bo, who frowned halfheartedly down at her. He might have even bent down to pet the damn dog if he hadn't caught sight of you and his brother.

"You plannin' on giving the dog a trim next?" He grinned over at you, Vincent slipping out of the chair as you put hand on hip.

He knew what that meant even if his brother chose to ignore it.

"No, not the dog," you so simply smiled back. Not a nervous smile or a sweet one. There was a devious curl to your lips that you had perfected since meeting Bo Sinclair.

You shook your head, pointed a finger straight at him and declared

"You're next."


	2. Necessary Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester is the next in line for a haircut, though this isn't exactly how you pictured getting it done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief, tomato sauce does not get rid of skunk smell, it just masks it.  
> Sorry this took forever!

On any given day, Ambrose can be either a pretty boring place or sheer madness, depending on the number of people wandering around.

Today is one of the boring ones. 

Vincent is in the basement working tirelessly on the towns most recent 'guests.'

Bo is down at the station salvaging a few parts from the truck that those 'guests' drove into town with.

You are in the kitchen internally debating the shelf life of the boxed macaroni n' cheese you found while hunting down something for lunch. 

Lester is currently walking in the front door, a little unusual given that it's noon, but not out of the ordinary.

"Hey Lester, do you know how old this- JESUS H. FUCKING CHRIST! WHAT THE HELL?!" 

The smell Lester normally carries around with him is something you get use to and contrary to what the tourists think when they meet him, he does indeed bath. But this new smell hits you like a well aimed punch.

It reeks like skunk.

"That bad?" Lester chuckles, standing in the doorway, eyes watery and a little red.

"Yes! Don't you take one more step inside or so help me!" you walk cautiously from the kitchen, hand held firmly over your nose and mouth, to stare down the man now hovering on the doorstep.

"C'mon, I gotta get to the shower, this ain't exactly pleasant for me either" he shoots back.

"Nope, you're gonna stink this place out worse than when Bo tried to cook drunk, just stay outside" you wave your free hand at him, shooing him back.

"And what am I supposed to do? Wait for rain and a strong breeze?" 

"No, just. . .wait outside and I'll figure something out okay? Is it just on your clothes?" you ask hopefully.

"Well, I think my hat got the worst of it" he admits, shifting uncomfortably.

You had wondered why he had looked a little off. Seeing Lester without his hat was like seeing Bo in a short sleeve shirt or Vincent without hair hanging in his face.

"Okay, I'll get some towels and clean clothes. Maybe just, rinse off with the hose and here-" you dart back into the kitchen, grab a half empty dish soap bottle and toss it at him "start scrubbing."

Figuring something out proves to be a lot more difficult given the fact that you live on a tight budget of stolen items and cash with the nearest actual town being a good hour or so drive away. 

Your rummaging and general commotion eventually brings Vincent up from the depths of his workshop, Mite tagging along behind him, to find you digging around in search of baking soda.

"Oh, hey, Lester got sprayed by a skunk and I need some baking soda, any idea where it might be?" you ask with a glance over your shoulder, arms deep in a cabinet.

The answer Vincent gives you sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"Yeah, ha ha, hilarious" you deadpan and point to the pile of raggedy towels you had pulled out of the closet "now could you please go give him those please, his clothes are gonna need at least two washes."

His shoulders slump at your words and he walks like a man headed to the gallows as he picks up the pile of towels.

"Not sure if there's any left" Vincent's voice is a sharp rasp. 

"Well that sucks. Definitely gonna have to put that on the shopping list. Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

Walking down the front steps of the Sinclair house, a cloth tied firmly over the lower half of your face, supplies in hand, you feel ready for battle. Vincent is standing a good distance away from his little brother, old hose on full blast and pointed straight at Lester, who is stripped down to his threadbare boxers. Mite is calmly watching the whole ordeal from beneath a chair on the porch.

"Hey! HEY! I ain't on fire Vince! Turn that thing down would ya!" Lester yells, completely soaked, clothes in a wet pile beside his feet.

You gently tap Vincent on the shoulder with your yellow-glove covered hand and motion to the hose, which he kinks to halt the water flow.

"Okay, so this is how it's gonna go" you approach Lester, an open container in hand "add the rest of the soap to this and wash off with it, you're hair too, just don't get it in your mouth or eyes."

"What is it?" he asks, gingerly taking the mixture from you.

"Peroxide and baking soda, don't put a lid on it or it'll explode."

" 'Scues me?! An I'm jus' gonna put this all on my skin? What about tomato sauce?"

"Tomato sauce doesn't get rid of the smell it just covers it up" you tell him, as you reach down to pick up the ball of skunk drenched clothes. You hold it out as far away from you as possible.

Behind you, Vincent makes a sound like _'I told you so'_ at your statement and lets go of the hose to continue spraying down Lester, who gives a squawk at the undoubtedly cold water.

Once inside, you sprint to the laundry room and toss the clothes into the waiting drum of water and a diluted version of the soap, peroxide and baking soda mix. After closing the lid, the smell only lingers for a minute or two. 

You open the small window in the room just to be careful. You didn't grow up in the country but you spent enough time camping to know that it's usually better to be safe than sorry.

As it turns out, Lester's hat did bear the brunt of the stink. You try not to think about how that was possible and focus on the fact that along with his hat being unbearably smelly, Lester's hair also carries a good share of the stink. 

And you didn't have enough of the deodorizing mixture to go around.

When Bo comes trudging back up to the house for something he immediately forgets once he's filled in on the current Ambrose drama, he laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh before. He doesn't offer any advice on the situation, just goes inside to grab a beer and plants himself on the porch steps, grinning, while Mite comes to sit beside him.

At that point, Lester tells the 'I Thought The Skunk Was Dead, But I Guess Not' story as he sits down in the yard to dry out. Vincent hides in the shade up on the porch, for once not looking like he wants to escape to the shelter of his workshop. 

Mite is panting happily with you and Bo on either side of her as she accepts a rare petting from Bo, who seems to be unaware of what his non-beer filled hand is doing. Lester branches off into another story, as he does when no one stops him, and you can't help but smile. It's so rare to have all the Sinclair boys in one place, not arguing or in need of some kind of first aid. You know this won't likely happen again this century, so you savor it. 

The excited tone of Lester's voice, the occasional huff of amusement from Vincent, the way Bo isn't constantly tugging his sleeves over his wrists and the weight of Mite's head on your lap.

Now that you really think about it, you don't really mind the boring days Ambrose doles out every now and again.

"Hey!" you jolt up from your lounging against the steps, scaring Mite off your lap "I know how we can get the stink out of your hair Lester."

"How?" he squints over at you, the sun hitting his eyes full force now that he's without his hat.

"Just stay there, I'll go grab the clippers!" you jump up, scrambling towards the front door.

"What?! No way! N-O!" Lester begins gathering up the clean clothes.

"It's a necessary sacrifice, Les" Bo says and stands up, heading toward his brother, presumably to keep him from running off.

Vincent lingers on the steps if Bo needs back up.

Nope, you had no problem with the boring days, as long as you had your boys to help you through them. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is also posted on Tumblr under the same name because I'm only creative 47.3 % of the time.


End file.
